Most of the buildings in Lanfrydhall were white. The castle was the brightest of them all, and it did not take long for Kidu to miss the small earthen colored temples from back home. Everything here was tall with multiple stories. The more stories a building had, the more people there were inside them, and all these people had their own stories as well. And all those stories meant noise. 

It was noon, and Kidu and Timlan walked through the city square where there was a massive fountain at the center with four white statues facing away from the fountain. Each of the statues were probably fifteen feet high. 

“Do you know who the statues are?” Timlan asked. 

“We don’t have time to dally,” Kidu said, maintaining his brisk pace. “We have to be serious.”

“This city is full of statues of kings and lords,” Timlan said, catching up. “But in the city square, these statues are the men and women who helped Ronyn the Builder rebuild this city after the civil war. After it burned down.”

Kidu looked at the two small sealed envelopes in his hand. “The driver is just on the other side of the square. Let’s deliver these messages and head back.”

“One of the statues is of Phelonias, a Barbarian chieftain that Ronyn contracted with from the Sea of Ruin,” Timon’s continued. “The Barbarians helped build the roads too that run across Aredun and into Kienne.”

“A red seal and a black seal,” Kidu said. “One from Lord Edmon and the other from Menquist.”

“Serah was the daughter of one of Robyn’s chief builders. She learned everything from her father, and it’s said that when he died she picked up his trowel and continued until the castle was complete. They say it’s from her craftsmanship that the city still shines in the sun.”

“We’re here,” Kidu said. “I think that’s the driver.”

They wove their way in between a line of laborers waiting for their work day lunch. The driver was a short man thick in the limbs and torso, with a balding head and dull red hair poking out above his ears. He was swirling the last bits of drink a wooden cup. He sat on the driver’s seat of a black two-person carriage, with a pair of shiny black stallions. 

“Official post from the Lord Steward and the King’s Herald,” Kidu said. “Are you the driver?”

“Sure took your time,” the driver said. “Give em to me.”

“We’re right on time,” Kidu said, handing the two envelopes to the man. 

“Right on time, wrong on time, it never matters, time’s always a-wasting away, gotta go,” the man said, tucking the envelopes into a satchel. He tapped the horses with a buggy whip.

“Wait, don’t you want to know which envelope goes where?” Kidu asked. 

“Sure, let me have it,” the man said, his carriage not slowing. 

“Red goes to the Gildemanse. Black goes to Banningtown. And you are to deliver both yourself.”

The man saluted with two fingers and picked up the pace, barking at people to get out of his way. 

“I hope he doesn’t mix them up,” Timlan said. 

“I hope he doesn’t lose them,” Kidu added, keeping his eyes on the carriage until it turned a corner and disappeared behind a building. “The two letters are out of our hands. Let’s go back.”

They wove their own way back through the line of laborers and onto a wide, well commuted street. Kidu was able to relax his mind and the noise from all the moving parts of people, animals, wagons, and industry began to blend and muffle each other out. He had been holding onto the envelopes all morning since Menquist and Edmon had handed them to him with instructions to deliver to the driver. 

Kidu thought about earlier that morning when they were gathered in Edmon’s office. It was the morning after Edmon’s council with the Earls. Kidu replayed that morning in his mind.

"We will follow the prince's orders," Edmon had said before an audience of Menquist, Kidu, Timlan, Prince Sarengerel and the Peers. “Aye, we have conflicts on two fronts, but our forces are divided. We begin our campaign for unification.”

Menquist stood up. “When the time comes, all the arms of a unified kingdom will take the field against the shadow of Isnumur.  History will not tell the story of a second decimation of all our peoples."

“I’ll go to the north immediately then,” Norbu said. “I’ll free Sundersport from pirates.”

"I’ll get my things in preparation,” Kidu rose from his seat.  "If we clear the blocked waters at the Scales, it will open up travel and the Peers will flood into Kienne and turn the tide."

"I like the way you think," Menquist nodded, "but that's not what you're going to do.  Norbu, you will not be going alone. You will lead a small team of the king's men up through the Vale, but you're not to go to Sundersport.  You will go into the heart of the enemy itself.  Make way in secret to Grastenport and find out what you can.  I'm almost certain Visant has found a way through the Eastern Ridge."

"The Eastern Ridge stretches for hundreds of miles," Sornam said. 

"Aye," Norbu agreed.  "Grastenport lies on one side of the mountains and the Withings on the other.  We know the treachery of that terrain.  We will begin there. The Withings is key.  I will finally be able to stretch my legs."

"Very good. Yenzin, Sornam, Robjen, you have been shelved in this city like stale bread. Time to put the true talents of the Knights of the Northern Houses to use. We all have parts to play.  Kidu, your part is to accompany Lord Edmon to Aredun," Menquist added.  "I wish you could have stayed in Lanfrydhall a bit longer but I need you to make way to the Gildemanse, where the boy King Padrig holds his court."

"You're not coming with me?"

"Did you notice all the empty seats at the council?” Menquist asked. “Aredun owns one of those seats. That’s where you’ll be going. Sarengerel and I will go to the other. We will make way to the Soot and bargain with the Ash Men.  We will need all five realms on the field against Isnumur. The four kingdoms of Kienne, Aredun, Neredun, and the Soot, and the territories of the Smote. It is not just us. All of the realms must have a part to play."

“And the Twelve Trees of Neredun will be ready,” Sarengerel said. 

Menquist turned to Sarengerel.  "I knew you would win the tourney."

"What good would I be to you if I could not sit at the table as heir to the throne?" Sarengerel asked.  "And Menquist...I chose the tiger pelt as my title-fur."

Menquist laughed. “It must have boiled Burulgi’s blood when he saw that.”

Edmon walked over to Sarengerel and clasped his arm. "Menquist trusts you.  So will I."

"The world began with a song," Sarengerel said.  "We are but instruments played by fate.  What music we make will depend on how well we are played, but we will play it together."

Kidu’s mind drifted to the council. “Menquist…the Yghr in the yellow hat—”

“Torom…Torom…,” Menquist tried to remember.

“Torombatar!” exclaimed Timlan, proud of himself. 

“Yes, that’s it,” Menquist said.  “Yes, I remember. And no, I don't know him.”

Kidu rubbed his lower lip as he thought.  “He spoke of a soothsayer.  Master Rengu once told me that the world has a handful of wise elderwomen scattered across the lands that had the gift of foresight. He said he met one once, that it was a rare gift to receive a glimpse of what is to come.  If the Yghrs have their own soothsayer perhaps it's worth seeking her out."

Menquist shook his head.  "The Kiennese are not allowed in the Smote. Even still, soothsayers, oracles and prophecizers will give you no help.  There are plenty of charlatans looking to feed off those who cannot see their own path.  Sometimes the easiest way to get something done is to create a prophecy and eventually someone will come along and meet it.  That’s how false things are made true. No, we must navigate our own path, and we have much to do for there's a lot of path left."

The group began leaving the office.  "So you're all leaving me," Timlan said, unmoved.  "I suppose I'm to stay here and take care of the library then."

Menquist gave Timlan a look.  "You think you're watching over some books do you?  No, I have a special assignment for you. I need you to watch over something just as valuable.”

Edmon laid two envelopes on the table. He poured a bit of melted red wax on one of them, and a bit of black on the other. “Menquist,” he said. 

Menquist rolled up his sleeve and showed Edmon the ring on his finger. He removed the ring from his finger and pressed the seal from his ring on one of them. Edmon also had a ring, but he did not remove it as he pressed the seal from his own ring on the other. 

Edmon blew at the hardening wax of envelopes. “At noon a driver will be taking these messages to their destination. This one goes to the Gildemanse, to be read by a captain named Delger. The other goes to the Fatted Poult in Banningtown. The driver should know to whom to deliver it to there. Kidu, I want you to hand these to the driver.”

Kidu took the envelopes. The black wax had the impression of a galloping horse wearing a crown. The red wax had three arrows and a laurel. “How will I recognize him?”

“You won’t, he’ll recognize you,” Edmon said. “And these messages must not change hands before their final delivery. The driver is to deliver both himself. These cannot get into the wrong hands. It will be more expensive, but make that clear with the driver.”

“I understand,” Kidu said. 

“It’s a simple task,” Edmon said, placing his hand on Kidu’s shoulder. “But a very important one.”

That was nearly an hour ago. Kidu stopped and glanced around to see where they were, having lost himself in thought while they walked. Kidu realized that he and Timlan had stopped at the city center. Kidu was still thinking about that morning’s discussion. He stood beside the statue of Phelonias the Barbarian, facing away from the fountain. Timlan was going on about the history of the figures carved in stone, but Kidu didn’t hear any of it. His mind was still running through the morning. 

He felt honored to be trusted by both Menquist and Edmon for this task. The messages must be very important. He didn’t know what was in those messages, but it didn’t matter. Now that he had delivered it, he felt a weight off his shoulders. 

A hand pressed down heavily on his shoulder. He spun around at a short, thin man with thick dark hair and a weathered face. “You have something for me?”

“I have no money,” Kidu said. 

“That’s a problem for a different day,” the man said. “My name is Remy. You have two very important important messages for me to deliver. I’m the driver.”